9
Arch McNicol absently pushed the ink pen behind his left ear and held the piece of paper up against the waning light. He found his office regrettably drab during the winter months and hadn’t worked out how to fix the problem. His secretary often entered the room clucking her tongue and doing her best to push the blinds as far back as she could. The watery sun started its descent at precisely two o’clock in the afternoon at this time of year, casting long shadows over the office bookshelves. By four o’clock, he was forced to switched on his desk lamp to drive out the early dusk. At least Scotty should be arriving shortly.
Arch’s imagination was being sorely tested that grey rain-soaked afternoon as he surveyed the list of names printed in a neat column down the page. He’d even gone to t
